


PR Campaign

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, Fake Dating, M/M, Multi, Pre-Slash, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24196720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Noctis is a good prince but his image inside Insomnia is not great. He just can't seem to win over the metropolis. He's even desperate enough to listen when Ignis suggest he fake date a celebrity.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 31
Kudos: 161





	PR Campaign

Noctis spent most of his sickly childhood avoiding the press. When his magic came in at thirteen he was sheltered from scrutiny for an all new set of reasons. Partially because puberty makes everyone weird and awkward but also because Noctis’ powers came in like an atom bomb. Out of nowhere Noctis developed a surprising strength and versatility. He’s still slender but Gladio’s beaten good sword work into him and he can summon enough lightning to make a god apologise. That said Noctis didn’t always have great control over his abilities and no one really wanted him summoning an Astral at a press conference. The magic gave Noctis’ minders some relief at least. He developed into something decidedly less fragile, sure, but his adolescent moods were legendary amongst his retainers.

When Noctis was eighteen he had two options: go to university or go to war. His father assured him either option would be acceptable as no one was quite sure what exactly would sort Noctis out. Noctis, after years in strenuous private schools, chose to go punch an assortment of Niffs and MTs with his Crownsguard.

Noctis met the refugees beyond the wall. People who still, despite their abandonment, recognised him as their Prince. Noctis saw the daemons, the MTs, the assortment of ways the Empire wrought cruelty across his continent… So Noctis decided, if it was the last thing he did, he would soundly kick the bastards off his ancestral land.

And so he did.

Noctis spent two years afield making friends amongst the soldiers and mercenaries. Noctis was always reserved but his strong silence actually served him well in strategy meetings and cloak and dagger operations. Noctis never looked like he was panicking so his men never panicked. He went hunting, made connections across the country, and he was never short of soldiers willing to fight with him.

But then….

Don’t get it twisted. Noctis is glad the Niffs have retreated out of Lucis with their tails between their legs. He’s reclaimed the continent they’ve been steadily losing for sixty years. His people are safe, the Niffs are a touch more sheepish, and no one’s giving LuciS shit at political summits anymore. They’re not in a corner anymore. But…. With the war over, for now, Noctis has to go home. Home to Insomnia. Home to the glittering parties and political escapades. A world Noctis never felt comfortable in and a world he is decidedly unsuited for now.

Noctis’ men respect him, his enemies fear him, but the press think he’s intimidating and unyielding. Newspapers bemoan how the Lucian Prince would be so much more handsome if he just learnt how to smile. Noctis can’t fake casual ease. He can do unbothered, unafraid, but pleasant? Contented? He can’t do that. He doesn’t have the face for it. People start saying he’s going to be a ‘ _fierce_ _warrior king_ ’ or something. The people beyond the wall are loyal, have much nicer stories about him that crawl around the countryside like urban legends, but the people of Insomnia? Noctis is too military for them. He’s not socialite enough.

Noctis tries not to let it bother him but it obviously bothers Ignis. Ignis is concerned about Noctis’ ‘ _image_ ’ and insists that now the war is over Noctis will win more fans with smiles than scowls. Everyone knows he’s strong now but the people want to love him, they want to get to know him, they want to see he’s human. King Regis in his youth was, to be frank, a shit strategist and a middling warrior with equally middling magic but he’s so personable people still love him. Noctis’ father tries to talk to him, tries to coach him on smiling and easing his shoulders, but none of it comes easily.

Noctis isn’t used to the paparazzi or the public events. The spectacle leaves him physically exhausted. A victory in battle gave him a tangible sense of satisfaction but not making a fool of himself at a council meeting? It just feels like another hoop to jump through, another minefield to maneuver, and its stressful. He doesn’t like any of it. He tries to talk his father into conquest, into putting the shoe on the other foot, but his father isn’t interested in invading Nifleheim and fighting seems to be all Noctis is good at.

The council ask Noctis to consider getting married, suggest that will mellow him, and he has more options than ever now Lucis is restored to its former glory but…

Noctis doesn’t want to get married. He’s twenty for shit’s sake. The council backtrack, honestly a little more frightened of him than Regis after everything, and ask him to consider university again? Or dating? He’s young. He doesn’t have to settle down yet. He could have some paramours? Noctis scrunches up his face and toys with the notion but is not convinced.

Everything feels so artificial in Insomnia. Noctis doesn’t feel like himself in a suit. He only really feels himself in one of two scenarios; either curled up with a video game and some of Ignis’ cooking or sweat soaked and adrenaline filled in the training arena with Gladio. That’s it. Unless he takes an excursion beyond the wall to fish and hunt he’s trapped in this unending tedium. Out in the world everything was exciting, his schedule could change at a moment’s notice, but in Insomnia everything is structured and predictable so the nobles don’t have heart attacks.

Things reach a head when armed gunmen storm a charity event Noctis is attending. Noctis summons his engine blade and puts them flat on their asses before the Kingsglaive even know what’s going on. Noctis breaks some terrorists’ hand which, frankly, doesn’t feel like that much of a big deal but its all over the papers the following day. Its much less _‘Prince saves literal children from being massacred with efficiency_ ’ and more ‘ _Warlord Prince gets to flex his baser instincts_ ’. People think Noctis is just some bloodthirsty warrior. It’s annoying, absolutely, but Ignis thinks it’s a tangible disaster.

“We have to do something about your image,” Ignis moans, pacing with the paper in his hands.

“If you have any ideas; I’m all ears,” Noctis sighs, sprawled back on the couch with his arm over his face.

“I suspect this may take some dirty dealing,” Ignis pauses, gears audibly turning in his brilliant brain. “Desperate measures.”

“Go nuts.” Noctis encourages dismissively. “It can’t possibly get any worse.”

“You trust me, yes?” Ignis folds the paper in half and comes to loom over him. “If I formulate a plan you’ll give it a try, yes?”

“Iggy, I trust you with my life,” Noctis shrugs, arm slumping down by his side. “I’ll do whatever you want. If it’ll get these fucking reporters off my back; I’ll shave my head.”

Ignis frowns, mind obviously racing.

“Leave it to me,” he instructs. “We’ll get this sorted.”

Noctis nods lazily, hands folding over his navel, and just wishes he could go to Lestallum and drink with Holly or Cindy.

* * *

Noctis spends a considerable amount of time the following day working out his frustrations on Gladio. They don’t use swords. They’d hurt each other too much with swords at this stage. They just throw each other around on the training mats in one of the more out of the way sparring rooms. They work up a sweat, sure, but they dither between competitive and playful at the best of times these days so its not exactly aggressive.

Noctis has Gladio pinned under him, arm bent behind his back, when his Shield cracks some filthy joke.

“Should just pull my pants down now if you’re going to fuck me up this bad, Princess,” Gladio grins through heavy breaths.

Noctis laughs and makes the mistake of releasing him.

Gladio is evidently not done yet because, twisting like a snake, he flips them and forces Noctis on his back under him. Noctis pushes back instinctually but Gladio has his wrists pinned by his head.

“Meat head,” Noctis huffs, puffing a strand of hair out of his face as he wraps his legs snugly around Gladio’s waist.

“Never trust an Amicitia,” Gladio declares smugly.

“Oh come off it!” Noctis scoffs. “I’m _supposed_ to trust you. That’s your whole job, you great, big, stupid— _Uggh!_ ” 

Noctis writhes as Gladio, scourge of a thousand MTs, licks sloppily up his sweaty face.

“Ew! _Gross!_ ” Noctis wails.

Gladio just laughs deep in his belly.

Noctis groans, rapping his forehead against Gladio’s gently as his Shield rubs their noses together. Noctis wasn’t lying yesterday. He trusts Gladio and Ignis with his life. They’re his oldest friends and, frankly, the loves of his life. They don’t find him scary. They find him spoilt and moody, pouty and squirmy, but they love him that way. They make him laugh. They make him smile. They don’t have any trouble bringing him comfort or joy and he’s totally himself with them.

Glaido rumbles, chuckling softer, and Noctis squeezes his legs around his hips. Gladio is safe. Gladio likes him just the way he is.

“Not going to get out that way,” Gladio chides.

“Oh shut up and kiss me,” Noctis snaps, biting the tip of Gladio’s nose.

Laughing Gladio surges in and presses their wet mouths together. Noctis struggles, trying to free his hands, loving the way Gladio kisses him hard and holds him still for a second but when the Shield releases his wrists Noctis’ fingers quickly tangle in his hair. Lips, teeth, tongue—

Gladio stiffens, lifting up into a hunch over Noctis like a startled dog, and Noctis flops back sweaty and impatient.

Sitting back between Noctis’ legs Gladio cocks his head towards the door; footsteps approaching.

Noctis sighs and untangles his legs from around Gladio’s hips. Patting his hip Gladio reaches for his elbows and helps haul him up onto his ass on the training mat. Pulling his knees towards his chest Noctis slouches, neck sticky, while Gladio makes casual and fetches the water bottles.

As Gladio tosses a water bottle his way Ignis struts into the room without knocking.

“Hey Iggy,” Noctis greets, uncapping the bottle with his teeth,

“Apologies,” Ignis replies, “I’m sure I’m interrupting a lot of homoerotic tension.” 

“Gladio’s hot in sweats.” Noctis shrugs as if he can’t possibly contain himself.

“All the same,” Ignis grins softly. “I think I’ve developed a temporary solution to our problems. If you’d like to shower I’ll meet you in my office in half an hour?”

“Sounds good.” Noctis sips.

“Kiss?” Gladio offers Ignis, arms open.

“Don’t you dare, you sweaty behemoth,” Ignis warns, “you’ll ruin my suit.”

“Aw Iggy, come on, be reasonable!” Gladio laughs, throwing down his towel and stalking towards the advisor.

“Don’t you dare!” Ignis thrusts his index finger out but makes a hasty retreat back through the door before Gladio can grab him.

Noctis giggles.

“Come on Princess,” Gladio loops back around to heft him into his arms, “I’m sure we could sneak in one or two more kisses during that shower.”

“Just one or two,” Noctis nods solemnly, arms hooped around Gladio’s neck. Gladio can throw him around like a ragdoll. It’s so hot.

* * *

Noctis emerges from his shower feeling a little more at ease with himself. He and Gladio don’t push their luck too much in the Glaive showers but just being held and kissed is usually enough to help Noctis unwind after a rough work out. Noctis needed the release today and by that he means both the punching and backflipping and the kissing.

Ignis office is bigger now Noctis is a war hero. Funny how that works.

Ignis obviously has something Noctis isn’t going to like on his mind because he pulls Noctis into his lap on the antique chase lounge and starts laying out manilla folders. 

“I don’t like where this is going,” Noctis warns, letting Ignis bundle him up and kiss his vaguely wet hair.

“Just hear me out,” Ignis instructs. “You promised yesterday you’d try anything.”

“I’m beginning to regret that.”

“I haven’t said anything yet, Noct.” Ignis snorts.

“You’re winding up for a real dozy.” Noctis knows that, clear as day, but he leans back into Ignis and preens gently all the same.

“Alright, now, you can’t publicly date myself or Gladio. Least of all both of us.” Ignis prefaces. “But I suspect that dating someone would soften your rough edges at least as far as the public is concerned. If they could see you doting over someone, if they could reframe you, it might go a long way.”

“I’m not getting married.” Noctis deadpans sternly.

“Not marriage,” Ignis promises, “just dating. Just a casual summer fling with a celebrity.”

“A celebrity?”

“It’s more exciting for the press if it’s some Insomnian sweetheart.” Ignis assures.

“Ugh, so some girl with big tits and—”

“I actually think they’d like it more if you put yourself out a little,” Ignis encourages, “if you date another man you look to be bucking tradition, you seem more relatable, like you’re interested in love not heirs.”

“Well…” Noctis wavers. “A guy might be okay… but how are we even going to get them to date me? You don’t honestly expect me to seduce someone, do you?”

“Agents orchestrate fake flings for press all the time,” Ignis dismisses. “We all sign nondisclosures. You make some socialite a little more famous, they make you look a little less scary, everyone wins.”

“Alright, who you got? You got head-shots?”

“I have head-shots,” Ignis chuckles, opening the manilla folders.

Noctis leans out of Ignis’ arms and scrutinises the spread. He recognises most of the faces from music videos or big films. Ignis has been careful to select people close to his own age. There are some heartthrobs, buff and suave, but Noctis has two very charming men in his life already. Besides, he doesn’t trust himself to play little spoon with someone he doesn’t know convincingly. Noctis will make a more convincing top with a stranger.

Noctis starts narrowing down his list to baby faced cuties and shuffles the files into piles. Ignis helps with distant, unobtrusive, hands. Ignis just lets him strategize. Ignis is great like that.

“Can I be selfish?” Noctis wavers.

“Be selfish,” Ignis encourages. “It’ll be easier if you’re at least a little excited.”

“I really like his movies,” Noctis admits, lifting up one of the folders.

“He’s certainly got sweet features,” Ignis hums, taking the file. “He’s only done a handful of big block busters. His agent will be delighted to get his greedy hands on you.”

“Like you’d let anyone get their greedy hands on me,” Noctis snorts.

“I would sooner start a massacre,” Ignis nods curtly, kissing Noctis’ cheekbones.

* * *

Noctis’ first date is supposed to be in private so he and the starlight can break the ice a little and work out a strategy. Noctis never goes into battle with a weapon he’s unfamiliar with (except for that one time, Gladio pointedly reminds him). Point is; Noctis is not going to a gala with this kid without ever having met him before.

Ignis oversees most of the meeting. Noctis has no interest meeting the talent agent or a stylist or whatever and Ignis keeps ‘ _the vultures_ ’, as he calls them, as far away from Noctis as possible. Ignis seems to find the idea of some common ‘ _meat salesman_ ’ talking to ‘ _his Prince_ ’ deplorable. Which is honestly kind of cute. Gladio is watching the room but honestly Gladio is more a back up than a necessity at this stage. Noctis is plenty capable of protecting himself.

The starlight, one Prompto Argentum, is escorted into the room looking all flushed and glittering. Gladio snorts under his breath and avoids staring. Noctis can tell what he’s thinking from ten feet away. These people are practically selling the kid to Noctis like some glorified doll. Someone’s done him up the nines. Noctis sighs and takes a sip of his bottled water.

“Highness,” Prompto bows, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Noctis greets casually, cocking his head to the empty couch beside him; “sit.”

“Y-yes! Sure!” Prompto chirps.

Noctis swears internally and glances to Gladio. He’s not using to phrasing things as questions. He’s used to giving commands. He really needs to lay off that but he can’t exactly start this out by apologising.

Prompto sinks into the couch and smiles at him.

“I’m really glad to meet you, this is going to be so great,” Prompto starts, charging into one of those industry spiels about ‘ _networking_ ’ and shit. Noctis frowns despite himself but tries to nod along. His compliance seems to crash and burn however because Prompto catches his expression and trails off limply, blushing red.

Noctis sighs; “sorry, I have poor facial control. That’s part of the problem.”

“N-no it’s fine!” Prompto assures quickly. “Um…” Prompto rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Ignis said you liked my movies?”

“Yeah actually, love em,” Noctis promises with a little more enthusiasm.

“Which one’s your favourite?” Prompto ask. “ _Fifty Thousand Leagues_ or _Repentance_ tend to be people’s top picks.”

“I…” Noctis laughs, sheepish himself for a second. “I don’t watch a lot of blockbusters. I’m more a genre and indie guy. Liked you in _Rejects_ , the bazooka scene was hilarious, and _Dreamscapes,_ magical boys aren’t usually my thing but loved the meta narrative, but, um, _Scarlet Question_ was my favourite. Personally.”

Prompto is red again.

“I-I mean—” Prompto tries to recover, torn between trying to stroke Noctis’ ego and his own mortification. “Those are really fun movies. I’m just—Heh, most people tend to only know me for my big stuff not the little niche movies I did as a child actor. That’s… that’s kind of embarrassing actually. The Prince of Lucis knows me from _Scarlet Question_ , oh my god…”

“Well, in my defence,” Noctis huffs, “we didn’t get to go to a lot of movie premieres while I was fighting a war.”

“No! Of course not!” Prompto backtracks quickly, mortification escalating to an eleven in the span of three seconds. “I’m sorry,” Prompto laughs, “I’m just a little nervous. I’m usually way better at being charming.”

“I’m a difficult customer,” Noctis shrugs with a sigh. “Honestly it doesn’t matter if you can charm me. It’s just if you think you can work with me? I’m not real great at making the right faces on camera. That’s the issue here. I need to look less terrifying to people. I’m sort of looking for your expertise. Think you can whip me into shape?”

“I can certainly try,” Prompto promises with a keen little nod. “What’s… what’s the problem exactly? Do you get stage fright?”

Gladio snorts a little louder this time.

“I’m not afraid of most things,” Noctis shrugs, “I’m just very, very, bad at acting. I can’t fake how I’m feeling convincingly.”

“But, like, in the war you would’ve had to—”

“Oh, I can fake confidence, resolve, certainty, anger…” Noctis ticks off diligently. “But no one wants that. They want me to fake stupid things like nonchalance and joy. Things I don’t like faking.”

Prompto frowns thoughtfully.

“Do you have strong emotions?” He ponders.

“I was the moodiest kid,” Noctis sighs, glancing quickly to Gladio who is obviously trying not to nod keenly. “I feel everything at like a hundred and twenty percent but I also have very little control of my face and my voice when I’m not in a combat situation.”

“We’ll just make media a combat situation then,” Prompto shrugs.

“You think?” Noctis tilts his head.

“You’ve probably got some mad keep-your-head skills. We’ve just gotta work on your social improvisation. If you make it into a video game its way easier, I’ve found, and, like, I have strategies for faking a smile. In the sense that I _don’t_ fake it. I’m just not smiling at what people _think_ I’m smiling at.” 

“What do you mean?” Noctis frowns.

“So, like, an interviewer makes a joke and you’re supposed to smile convincingly,” Prompto supposes, “I tend to tell myself a much funnier joke in my head and laugh at that. You just got to have a bank of images and phrases that illicit the right responses.”

“That…” Noctis slumps. “That’s probably the most reasonable thing anyone’s suggested to me, honestly. Think you can walk me through that?”

“I can try.” Prompto promises.

“I have to go to like twenty functions in the next month. How many can you make it too?” Noctis supposes.

“My agent, Aranea, and Lord Scientia are working out schedules,” Prompto assures. “I’m not filming anything currently so my schedule is pretty flexible. There’s a couple of events I’ve RSVP’d for but we could get you invites easily and there might be some overlap in our plans already.”

“Understood,” Noctis nods, slipping back into a fiercer instinct despite himself. He tries to pull himself out of it for a split second. He tells himself he’s not going to war but Prompto just encouraged him to think of it like a combat situation so—A game, it’s more like a game. He’s just playing a really shitty game.

“Thank you again for considering me,” Prompto smiles gently. “This’ll be really good for my career.”

“I’m glad it’ll help both of us.” Noctis shrugs, nonchalant but not fond. He just can’t fake it.

“Hmm…” Prompto frowns over him.

“What?” Noctis straightens.

“You really _can’t_ fake it, can you?”

“I told you I’m awful at this,” Noctis sags.

“It’s okay,” Prompto promises quickly, “just… who’s your favourite person in the world?”

Noctis frowns, brows piercing together. “That’s—”

“You must—” Prompto backtracks. “I’m sure you’ve got people you like, maybe people you can’t parade in front of a camera, or just people you love. Right?”

“Well, yeah…” Noctis dithers uncomfortably. “But that’s private. I’m not just going to _tell_ you—”

“You don’t have to, promise,” Prompto assures. “Just… close your eyes for a second? Okay? Good. Okay. I want you to think about someone you really, really, love.”

Noctis sighs but complies with the exercise. He can sort of see where this is going. He doesn’t expect it to work but he has to try, right? Closing his eyes he summons up the twin pillars of his universe; Ignis and Gladio.

“Okay, you got it?”

“Yeah?” Noctis nods.

“Okay, think about the sweetest thing they’ve ever told you. What did they say that made you feel like the luckiest idiot in the world?”

Noctis sits with it a moment. In a flash it comes crashing over him; the three of them in the hotel in Lestallum, Ignis cooking dinner, Noctis hassling Gladio by prodding him with his bare feet. Noctis begging for foot rubs. Gladio rolling his eyes, Gladio swatting him with his book, Gladio exasperatedly moaning ‘ _fine! Fine! Just cause I love you!_ ’

“That!” Prompto yelps.

Noctis’ eyes fly open, startled, but he can feel the smile falling off his face.

“You looked really happy,” Prompto tells him.

“I did…?” Noctis casts a weary eye at Gladio who nods subtly. “I…”

“Think you can do that with your eyes open?” Prompto schools.

“I’m not sure…?” Noctis admits.

“Here,” Prompto reaches for his hands. “Look me in the eye, just, like, meet me face to face.”

Noctis consents to taking Prompto’s pale little hands. Prompto squeezes his fingers tightly and their eyes meet and its confusing and Noctis is rarely this close to people and—

“Focus,” Prompto warns patiently. “Okay, try and get that thought back. Look at me but you don’t have to be all here with me. Just—Yes! Like that!” Prompto laughs.

Noctis snorts, feeling a little better. It’s not easy right now but most things get easy with practice. Still on some level it feels inescapable. When he summons that scene up in his head he can’t help but smile.

“There!” Prompto beams at him. “Much better. Okay, now; _thanks for considering me for this job, Prince Noctis._ ”

Noctis laughs despite himself, genuinely amused, but still only half in the moment; “you’re welcome.”

“Way better,” Prompto declares, releasing his hands. “I believed it that time.”

“What do you think, Gladio?” Noctis pivots in his seat.

“More the you I know, Highness.” Gladio nods with a warm grin.

“You’re going to have to keep me on task,” Noctis turns back to Prompto, “I don’t think I could do that all night.”

“No one expects you to smile all the time,” Prompto promises. “Just got to pepper the shots with it and then if the press get ten shots of believable smiles having fifty of you looking cold won’t matter. Approachable sells better.”

“Thank you,” Noctis replies with some genuine sincerity. Prompto’s not a solider but he’s definitely good at this. It might not be a life or death skill but it’s a skill, for sure, and right now Prompto’s his teacher.

“Glad I could help,” Prompto quirks his head charmingly. “You’re going to be a tough cookie!”

“Always is,” Gladio grunts.

“Oi!” Noctis snaps over the back of the couch.

Prompto stiffens, obviously not sure for a split second if he should relax or not, but when Gladio and Noctis grin at each other he allows himself to giggle belatedly.

* * *

Prompto was right; there are some events in their rosters that overlap already and there are other events Prompto’s been invited too that would just love the added press boost of hosting the Prince. The few remaining events, Noctis’ more political roster, are things Noctis can easily get a plus one too. Ignis assures Noctis that Prompto doesn’t have to be on his arm for every occasion but Noctis supposes while he’s ‘ _training_ ’ it’s best to practice often.

Ignis consolidates the details. There’s a large, expensive, gala to re-open the remodelled Arts and History museum in the city and the guest list is a mix of every celebrity and official they can harass into attending. Ignis supposes this is a good occasion to introduce the idea of Prompto on Noctis’ arm. They inform Prompto’s agent and plan to meet at the venue. Noctis will have Gladio and Nyx backing him up but given they’re celebrities in their own right they can accompany Noctis pretty casually rather than an armed escort of unnamed Glaive. The problem is often that Nyx is way more charismatic on camera.

Noctis gets to wear a suit for the occasion rather than ceremonial robes which is always a relief. Less jewellery, more design freedom, greater colour choice… Like, sure, most people wouldn’t detect a difference but to Noctis there’s a big different between the designer stuff he gets to express himself in at an event and the Lucian black regalia he has to wear during formal state occasions.

The red carpet outside the museum is thriving with press and security all tightly packed at the edges while celebrities strut inside. By 9pm it’s a shit show. Noctis causes the usual fuss but the press are pretty tightly monitored tonight. No lunging paparazzi.

Gladio helps him make it a waiting area ‘back stage’ while they wait for Prompto. When they spot him getting out of his limo Nyx inserts them back into the fray.

Prompto glances around, Noctis gives a little wave.

Prompto bursts into a show stopping smile and Noctis honestly can’t tell if its fake or not but it has to be, right?

“Hi,” Prompto whispers a touch conspiratorially when they get close enough for Noctis to put his hand on the small of his back.

“Hi,” Noctis’ smile back is not anywhere near as dazzling but its more natural than he can usually muster. He’s met Prompto. He’s decided he likes Prompto. Prompto gets a friendly smile.

There’s an audible frenzy from the press as they start to notice the interaction.

“Shall we?” Prompto takes his arm.

“Of course,” Noctis permits, leading the way.

“Easy, slowly, no rush.” Prompto schools softly enough for just Noctis to hear.

“Right,” Noctis sighs, he always struggles with this.

Prompto’s hands are very gentle and he looks up at Noctis like he’s so excited. It’s honestly a little surreal.

“Okay, you ready?” Prompto lets them ease to pause before a thrum of press for a photo op.

“Think so,” Noctis whispers.

As they pause Prompto leans into Noctis, close enough to whisper.

“How do you circumcise a hillbilly?”

Noctis frowns ever so slightly, confused, but before he can register to ask what Prompto’s doing—

“You kick his sister in the jaw.” Prompto answers his own question, completing the joke.

Noctis can’t help it.

He’s spent two years beyond the walls with Cid and Cindy and—

He bursts out laughing.

It’s so crass. It’s totally up his alley.

Prompto grins, helps him hold his balance, and for a second Noctis has totally forgotten the press. He just grins at Prompto like he’s the cleverest comedian in the whole world.

“Just like that,” Prompto chirps, beaming at him.

Noctis glances out over the crowd, still grinning and unable to stop, and the press are practically salivating. It’s _insane_.

“Tell me another?” Noctis pleads as they keep walking to the next press pause.

“What’s the difference between a hooker and a drug dealer?” Prompto starts.

Noctis likes where this is going.

“A hooker can wash her crack and sell it again.” Prompto hits the punchline.

Noctis is cackling.

Gladio has to check if he’s okay.

Noctis waves him off.

Prompto looks very pleased with himself.

“You’re amazing,” Noctis reels, “how’d you even learn those?”

“My Dad’s military,” Prompto whispers. “I thought you’d like some of his jokes.”

“Don’t stop.” Noctis begs.

The jokes are some of the lewdest, nastiest, things Noctis has ever heard and he loves it.

At the last photo pause Noctis puts his arm around Prompto’s waist and murmurs;

“What does a seventy-five year old woman have between her breasts that a twenty-five year old doesn’t?” He pauses for just a second. “Her navel.”

Prompto actually has to cover his mouth and the snort he makes is so unattractive Noctis believes it might actually be genuine.

Laughing, Prompto swats him playfully. Noctis grins down at him, already genuinely feeling five times fonder than when last they met.

The press are going discernibly _insane_ over the fence.

Noctis can feel the frenzy but Gladio and Nyx direct them into the gala.

* * *

Phase two is a little harder but Prompto dutifully directs him throughout the night. Prompto, under all the clean make up, is discernibly filthy and he seems to realise that’s the way to tap into Noctis’ warrior instincts. Prompto stays close, on his arm, all night and they strategize between encounters with important officials trying this or that new strategy.

A particular highlight is the Council member for Finance. Noctis thinks he’s a droll sack of shit and tells Prompto as much in vague terms so Prompto curls up against him, tugs him down, and whispers in his ear;

“Pretend you’ve fucked his daughter, hard, and he doesn’t know yet.”

Noctis wants to say that doesn’t work but he’s grinning, softly, the entire conversation. He can’t shake the image. Banging Councilman Klein’s precious college daughter against a desk while, the Councilman none the wiser, inevitably going to find out but Noctis rippling with the satisfaction. Even if its fake the idea of the mood sustains Noctis to acting amicable and friendly.

Noctis finds that, for an actor, Prompto is a quick thinker and, as they get the gist of each other, Prompto gets even better at providing nudges that put Noctis in the right mind set. It’s a kind of play pretend. Sometimes Prompto makes Noctis think of fantasy situations, sometimes real situations, sometimes real people, but the difference Noctis feels in how he’s holding his shoulders alone is world shaking.

Everyone seems a little bemused and everyone asks who Prompto is. They have a cover story but they don’t need much of one. As far as the world of Lucis knows this is their second date and Noctis is an fan of Prompto’s movies. They can maintain that lie fluidly, mostly because it’s almost the truth, but the main thing is that everyone immediately notices a difference in Noctis. They put it down to Prompto, which is also mostly true, and Councilman Klein makes a subtle remark about ‘ _not falling too hard, too fast_ ’ because _‘the crown still needs heirs_ ’ and all that.

Noctis isn’t sure how he’s going to feel in the morning but right now he feels pretty good. He’s always been an apt strategist and negotiator. He’s quite good at poker. The problem has always been his inability to fake pleasant emotions convincingly. He’s too reserved in general for a Prince and his conqueror image doesn’t help. But with Prompto? He’s making good progress.

“Thank you,” Noctis whispers to Prompto as they slip out the back stairs to the well guarded carpool where everyone is being retrieved to go home for the evening.

“You did good,” Prompto promises.

“We did good,” Noctis affirms.

“See you at the festival in a few days?” Prompto supposes.

“Looking forward to it,” Noctis promises. He is, in a way, looking forward to more social ‘ _training’_ with Prompto.

“Night,” Prompto chooses that moment, to tug him down for a quick peck. It’s sexless, mostly friendly, but it seems sweet and fond to the crowded celebrity onlookers Noctis is sure.

Noctis laughs, lets it happen, but whispers into Prompto’s nose;

“Princes aren’t supposed to kiss in public.”

“You didn’t, I did.” Prompto grins. “Just couldn’t help myself, ya know?” He teases, slipping away out of his spot. He’s been tucked against Noctis’ side all night and it feels strange not to have his weight there anymore. Prompto, in a weird way, is Noctis’ social sword. That… that’s a weird metaphor, admittedly, but Noctis is a warrior first.

Gladio and Nyx whisk Noctis away to his own armoured car and they’re soon out of the bright lights. Behind the tinted windows Noctis slumps, laughing weakly, and let’s his tension go. It doesn’t feel like he endured another stressful gauntlet of awkward niceties. It feels like he just made a big kill on a hunt and the bounty is going to be sizeable. It’s a good feeling, satisfying.

He’s not permitted to maintain an apartment in the city anymore. But his quarters in the Citadel are rarely lonely and his Crownsguard are tight lipped. Most of them served with him on the front line before he returned to Insomnia. They make no comment when Gladio hefts him up off his feet and carries him into the suite.

Ignis is already asleep in bed but he stirs long enough to pull Noctis against his chest as the Prince and Gladio slide into bed. Ignis smells clean, feels bed-warm, and Noctis surrenders the hold of his muscles to just go limp.

The council, for the most part, know or heavily suspect Noctis has made lovers of his retainers but amongst royals its fairly common practice. Shields and Hands traditionally were permitted a degree of intimacy restricted to most other people regarding royals until the last hundred years. The council knows but they’re smart enough not to say anything. Noctis can move his Shield and his Hand in and so long as they’re quiet about it otherwise no one makes any grander remarks on the matter. Noctis is entitled to a harem so people let his escapades slip. The public? They can’t know but, likewise, it’s also none of their business. Just another royal mystery.

So Noctis gets to snuggle down in bed with his two retainers, proud of his efforts tonight, while his date for the evening settles down in his own home across the city.

* * *

Ignis fucking bounces in with the paper and the breakfast tray the following morning. Gladio is already down in the arena attending his Crownsgaurd duties with their private forces and Ignis has likely already been up since dawn, working quietly in the lounge on his laptop, but Ignis always likes to wake Noctis himself.

Noctis is always groggy in the morning but Ignis helps him sit and rests the tray in his lap while pressing a firm kiss against his cheek.

Noctis blinks sluggishly.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Noctis slurs, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm.

“It’s working.” Ignis purrs smugly, unfurling the newspaper for Noctis.

They made the front page.

Noctis blinks.

He barely recognises himself in the photos. He doesn’t normally smile like that on camera unless he’s covered in dirt and, typically, presenting a giant fucking fish to Gladio’s phone camera. He snorts, eyes scanning down the page dazedly, he’d read it but he’s still waking up. Ignis, sensing that, pull the paper back and reads him the highlights.

“ _Insomnia’s fierce Prince left press crews at the Arts and History Museum relaunch mystified last night when he arrived in close company with one of Lucis’ most up and coming film stars; Prompto Argentum._ ” Ignis reads while Noctis sips his juice. “ _The Prince seemed to be in extraordinarily high spirits last night with his blonde bombshell. Sources say the pair have only recently started seeing one another behind the scenes but the same sources suggest we may be seeing Mister Argentum around his Highness a great deal more in coming weeks. We can certainly see the difference already._ ” 

Noctis whistles low, laughing; “they’re really eating it up, aren’t they?”

“They’re loving it,” Ignis hums in agreement. “The online press is somehow more glowing. I think I’ve seen three articles already about how ‘ _bold_ ’ it is for you to be seen with another man.”

“Do they think I’ve had a stroke?” Noctis wonders.

“They’re folding it into the existing narrative quite well, actually,” Ignis reveals. “They’re suggesting that you’ve always been a royal who ‘ _takes what he wants_ ’ and they’re translating your battle fearlessness into _‘the bravery necessary to date for love’_.”

“Well that’s probably the most flattering they’ve been of me since the war ended, don’t you think…?” Noctis rues.

“Absolutely,” Ignis revels. “I think we’ve played into your _‘sellable strengths_ ’ quite well with this move. We just need to hold up the momentum across the summer. I want a dozen more shots like this. The media is salivating for pictures of you smiling.”

“Well, I’ll do my best,” Noctis snorts.

“Mister Argentum must’ve done a good job?” Ignis presses.

“He’s sharp as an Altissian dagger.” Noctis nods, picking up his bacon with his hands because he’s a savage. “He picked up on how to work with me really quick. I think he’s going to be great.”

“Well, that’s wonderful,” Ignis bats Noctis’ hand away from the bacon, nudging the fork back towards him. “I’ve got your schedules thoroughly intermingled for the foreseeable future. I can only imagine this is benefiting his team likewise. I don’t think he’s ever made the front page of the Daily Insomniac before.”

“You’re happy?” Noctis hopes, pausing.

“I’m delighted.” Ignis promises. “But, Noct, I was never upset with _you_. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just want the rest of this infernal city to see they’ve got a wonderful prince. Lestallum? Caem? _The country?_ They know it already. It’s just this damn metropolis.”

“Well…” Noctis snorts softly, “so long as you’re happy.”

“Very.” Ignis kisses his nose. “Now finish up, council meeting today.”

“Ugh, joy.” Noctis huffs, snatching his bacon back up with his hands when Ignis steps away from the bed.

* * *

The morning is business. It’s all routine and mundane. Noctis checks in on a few of his passion projects, attends meetings, has lunch with his father…

Noctis is not prepared for the afternoon.

Training with Gladio is always something he makes time for but they’re not expecting the Marshall today.

“Hey, Marshall,” Noctis greets, he and Gladio lowering their swords as Cor struts into the private arena. “You’re not here with bad news, I hope?”

“No Highness,” Cor assures, saluting. He does that a lot more nowadays. “I wanted to catch you quickly. Personal business.”

“Of course,” Noctis invites him closer while Gladio fetches their water bottles, “I’ve always got time for you, Marshall.”

“I was reviewing the papers this morning,” Cor begins to explain as Noctis uncaps his water with his teeth. “I don’t typically concern myself with your dates, Highness, but I always hoped I’d get some forewarning if you took my son out.”

Noctis spits up his water indelicately.

Gladio looks pale.

 _“What?”_ Noctis wretches, eyes wild, flight-fight instincts fully engaged.

“Prompto.” Cor grunts, hands folded tightly behind his back, jaw set. “I’m taking that as an indication you were unaware?”

“ _Very._ ” Noctis coughs, wiping his mouth with the back of his tape wrapped knuckles. “I didn’t realise—Argentum—?”

“Stage name. Made his career easier.” Cor sighs like the whole idea tires him.

“Pardon my Niff, Marshal,” Gladio interjects cautiously, “but he sure doesn’t take after you?”

“Adopted.” Cor shrugs with the same level sombreness. “War orphan.”

“I’m sorry, Marshall, I didn’t realise.” Noctis repeats firmly. “Both Prompto and Ignis neglected to mention _that_ to me. Of course, if I had known, I would’ve talked to you before you saw it in the papers. That’s not how I like to do things, you know that.”

“I do, Highness,” Cor assures. “I assumed it must’ve been a mistake but I wanted to make sure. Prompto didn’t mention it?”

“He said his family was military,” Noctis recalls. “We didn’t get a chance to discuss it further. Still, that’s not much of an excuse. Given how thoroughly Ignis vets everyone—”

“It’s fine, Highness,” Cor promises. “Just, for my sake, go easy on the kid, yeah? He’s not a warrior like us. Taught him a few things but he’s an artsy kid at heart. He’s not always as cutthroat as he should be.”

“Of course,” Noctis nods, “I’ll keep that in mind. I’d never want to seriously upset part of the family.”

“Thank you,” Cor grunts curtly. “I’ll leave you to it. Apologies for the interruption.”

“No, thank you, Marshall.” Noctis dismisses him with another acknowledgement of his parting salute before heading for his phone.

“Noct—” Gladio starts as the door clicks shut.

Noctis already has the phone to his ear.

He puts his hand up and Gladio shuts up, wincing.

Ignis picks up after two rings. Private line.

“Yes Noct?”

“Cancel all my future appearances with Prompto Argentum, now.” Noctis snaps.

“Pardon, darling?” Ignis flusters.

“I just got a visit from the Marshall.” Noctis reveals.

“Ah…” Ignis comprehends.

“You neglected to mention _that_ came up in your background check.” Noctis seethes.

“I must’ve—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Noctis warns. “Don’t _start_. I know you. You don’t miss anything.”

“I just knew—”

“You knew I’d say no,” Noctis shoots back.

“Yes,” Ignis admits. “And he was a good match for our plan. I thought perhaps you’d warm to the idea after—”

“I’m not warming.” Noctis growls. “He’s Cor’s son. That means he’s off limits. Least of all for a scheme, Ignis. Kill it, now.”

“Yes Highness.” Ignis relents.

* * *

The media is a little disappointed when Noctis appears at the next gala unattended three days later. Noctis is still fuming. He doesn’t like being tricked. Ignis only ever has good intentions but as far as Noctis is concerned there is no good reason for lying. If people neglect to tell Noctis essential information then he can’t appropriately strategize and in the real world that kind of neglect can very quickly get you or someone else killed. So Noctis takes this stuff very seriously. His Crownsguard have to appreciate that.

He’ll just have to muddle along without Prompto Argentum, maybe try again in a few months.

The nice press was good while it lasted but Noctis is used to being a media black sheep. It’ll be fine.

The party is a charity event for war orphans, fittingly enough, and Noctis doesn’t think its appropriate to drink at such things regardless of what everyone else is doing. He saw plenty of defenceless children out beyond the Wall before he drove the Niffs back. Inside Insomnia they so often choose to forget how the rest of the country was suffering under Niff assault. Noctis saw it. He talked to those people.

He makes harmless chatter, Gladio at his side, and he knows he’s a little sterner than the previous gala but he’s still prickly from the argument. Besides, the subject matter makes him feel serious. He knows smiling is important but this is deep, dark, shit and Noctis wants to pay respect. This isn’t a social event for him.

Noctis knows Prompto is here tonight but he doesn’t expect the movie star to approach him. Their deal is off. Why would Prompto bother?

But…

Sure enough, moving like a waif, Prompto seems to find the perfect moment between conversations to inject himself at Noctis’ side.

“Hey, Sir,” Gladio starts to step in.

Noctis stills him with a subtle gesture.

“Mister Argentum,” he nods, polite.

“Highness,” Prompto heaves out an exhale like he’s fought his way to his moment, “can we speak privately for a moment?”

“I don’t think tonight is the time, Mister Argentum.” Noctis diverts gently. “If you need a private meeting you can try and arrange something with my—”

“You’re right here.” Prompto asserts, holding himself before Noctis stubbornly. “I want to talk to you _now_.”

Noctis hesitates. He doesn’t ever let himself get pushed around these days but he can appreciate the earnest determination of a warrior. That’s endearing and, for a movie star, Prompto’s got the glistening eyes of a champion refusing to back down from a quest.

Noctis sighs, slumping. He offers his arm, Prompto takes it, and Gladio escorts them to a quiet corner away from the building. It’s not totally private but it’ll have to do.

“I don’t understand,” Prompto pivots to face him again, “what happened?”

“You mean why did I cancel our arrangement?” Noctis supposes.

Prompto nods.

“There are things I didn’t realise.” Noctis tries to explain delicately.

“Like what?” Prompto presses.

“I don’t think this is appropriate for—”

“I deserve an explanation,” Prompto holds his ground, “it’s not like I’ve ever done porn or something. What could you have possibly found that makes me _Crown unworthy?_ ”

“I—” Noctis snorts, sideswiped by the idea of Prompto in porn of all things. “It’s not that, Prompto, I just didn’t realise you were related to Marshall Leonis.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Prompto frowns. “He’s an upstanding solider and—”

“He is, exactly,” Noctis assures candidly. “That’s the problem. I respect your father a lot and I would feel… improper if I pursed and arrangement like that with you knowing that.”

“But you’d exploit someone else’s greed?” Prompto snaps.

Noctis fumbles, again startled by Prompto’s ruthlessness and honesty.

“Hey—” Again Gladio tries to step in to break it up.

Again Noctis deflects him to stand back.

“Other people get to make those decisions, like I do, but I don’t want to tarnish the honour of a friend.” Noctis murmurs.

“My father and I are not the same person, let’s get that straight first off,” Prompto declares passionately. “I am my own man. I have my own name. I have worked very hard not to be in anyone’s shadow and I am fully capable of making my own decisions, Highness. I wanted this deal, for my career, for my legend. I frankly don’t care what my father thinks of it.”

Prompto is stern, clear, but he’s not spiteful or disrespectful. Even declaring himself so boldly he doesn’t sneer at Noctis or get aggressive. He just cares about this. He’s not cheap or brutish but he’s not going to be lightly rejected.

Noctis kind of respects that dignity, that grace.

“And you want this?” Noctis supposes carefully.

“Yes,” Prompto nods curtly.

Noctis hesitates, just slightly, but the wheels in his head are turning.

“I think I was doing a good job,” Prompto huffs weakly, gently frustrated. “I thought we were a good team.”

“I think so too,” Noctis admits. “Prompto, would you accept an apology…?”

“If it also means we can try again?” Prompto supposes.

Noctis nods curtly.

“Then yes,” Prompto agrees. “I would love that, Highness.”

“Then I am sorry,” Noctis promises. “Seems I underestimated you, Prompto.”

“That’s… that’s alright,” Prompto softens, just so.

“I would love to renegotiate the terms or our arrangement tomorrow morning,” Noctis clarifies. “But for tonight would you do me the honour of keeping me company? I could use your skilful approach.”

Prompto offers his hand, smile lopsided and sheepishly uncertain, but Noctis returns the smile by taking his hand and pulling it into the crook of his elbow.


End file.
